Remus Lupin had always been prone to brooding. He's getting by, just about satisfied with the monotony of the way his life has turned out. But when he catches up with an old friend he ends up with more than he'd bargained for.

And his mother had always said that the winds of change were a good thing.

Perhaps this time, they would be.

Sunday, June 22nd, 1986

Remus woke with a grumble to a persistent tapping. He didn't know what, or who, could be making such an irritating noise. His house was heavily warded during the full moon, and despite the long shadows in the room telling him the lateness of the hour, he was still aching from the previous night. He pulled himself upright into a sitting position with a groan, grabbing a thin blanket off of the couch to wrap around himself. He squinted and cast an eye around his living room, finally spotting a ruffle of feathers through a gap in the curtains.

He got to his feet, nearly tripping on his way over to the window. He pulled back the curtain to be greeted with the setting sun and was greeted by a round little auburn feathered owl staring up at him imperiously. He felt a shiver run up his spine that he wasn't entirely sure he could blame on the cold of his unheated cottage.

Sometimes Wales was nearly as cold as Hogwarts had been, despite it being the middle of the summer. He wasn't sure why looking at this owl made him feel funny, but as he reluctantly opened the window to let it hop inside, that feeling only grew.

He reached out to take the scroll tied tightly to his leg, and the owl clicked his beak at him twice, almost looking as though he had rolled his eyes. Right as he picked up the scroll, and saw his name written in a familiar slanting script on the outside, the recognition slammed into him.

He had seen this owl at his table at breakfast dozens of times, as angry then as it was now. Merlin, he had been in the bloody shop when this owl had been bought. He still had a small scar on his smallest finger from when it had nipped him as they tried to get it into his cage for the first time. His stomach flipped as he looked at the scroll in his hands.

He hadn't spoken to Mary in a long time, only once or twice since that horrible, fateful Halloween night. Their shared grief had only wrenched them apart where it could have brought them closer.

These last few years had been as lonely as his years in Hogwarts had been full of joy. He had lost everything in one night, and despite the fact that Mary was the only other one still around, the only other one who could possibly still relate, they had lost each other too. He had often wondered how she was, what she was up to. But he'd never been able to build up the courage to get in touch. He didn't know if he wanted to talk about Sirius, about the horrible things he had done- he didn't know if he could .

The few times they had met up had been so tense, so painful, that he had been almost relieved when neither of them contacted the other again. Time had moved on, and he the reluctant passenger. By now it had been over four years since he saw her last.

He opened the letter with trepidation, not surprised by it's brevity but certainly intrigued by its contents.

Remus,

Hope this didn't wake you too early after last night. I know it's been a while. I have something I'd like to talk to you about. Could you meet me this Thursday? I wouldn't ask, but it's important.

I've attached the details overleaf, if you have any problems with it, one of the proprietors should be able to help you get to Kenmare. If another day is better for you, let me know.

Send word back with Talia here, she's the only owl who can get through.

Mary

He scanned the contents overleaf, noting with some surprise that it directed him to floo to a Wizarding shop in Cardiff, passing through two more Wizarding floo spots in the south of Ireland before finally arriving in the Wizarding community of Kenmare. From there she had provided coordinates for him to apparate to.

He had only been to Ireland once before, during the summer before his seventh year. But he was fairly certain it had been Kenmare, as they had even visited the Kestrels home pitch; somehow managing to get drunk with a few of the players on the last evening. He wouldn't have thought that Mary had moved back to Ireland. Last he had seen her, she had been sleeping at a friends house in London, as her own home that she had shared with Sirius had been taken over by the Aurors as a potential crime scene, barely letting her grab a few of her own possessions before warding it against her and everyone else.

Whatever the reason for her moving back, and for this impromptu contact-getting out of Wales, and out of his own head for a bit would be good. He'd lost yet another job this month, and was finding it hard to keep food on the shelves so he'd been wallowing particularly badly this summer. He did have one part time job that he had managed to keep a hold of, but only because it was just three days a week.

He offers the bird some water and a few scraps of bread before quickly writing down an affirmative message before he can think twice about it. He gently but firmly attached it to her leg, watching it carefully to avoid a repeat of the first time they met. (At least there wouldn't be a dark-haired boy howling with laughter in the background if it did).

Inch Beach. Thursday June 26th, 1986

Remus wound his scarf tight around his neck as he gazed out upon the water. The directions Maire had provided him had led him to a patch of trees not too far from the beach, which was currently experiencing the typically cold Celtic summer. The waves lapped the shore as the wind blew the sand across the beach. There were a few brave souls balancing on those Muggle surfboards, and couples and families were strolling around the area, traipsing through the little tourist shop, or ordering coffee and scones at the cosy cafe that looked out upon the ocean.

This area definitely seemed Muggle, he couldn't sense anything too Magical about it at all. He couldn't help but wonder once more why Mary had asked to meet him here. He was a little early, so he ordered a cup of tea and sat down on one of the picnic tables overlooking the ocean. He had only taken a few sips when he felt someone approach the table from his right side.

He looked up to see Mary, her light brown hair blowing around her face, smiling down at him warmly. She looked tired, but her smile seemed genuine, her eyes warm. She tucked her long green coat in tight around her thin frame as she sat across from him, and he wondered if perhaps she was a little thinner than he recalled. She placed her own takeaway cup on the table, her hands wrapping around it.

Remus couldn't help but feel happy to see her, despite his uncertainty over why this sudden meeting. Seeing her was a little bittersweet. It brought back a whole tumble of memories that both haunted him, and reminded him of how good his life had once been.

"Hi Remus," she greeted, studying his face cautiously.

"Hello Mary."

"Thank you for meeting me here," her accent was a little stronger than he recalled, and he wondered if it was just the effects of time, or if perhaps she had been back in Ireland for quite a while. "Did you find it ok?"

"Of course." he smiled at her. "Yeah, no problem at all, your directions were very concise. I wasn't expecting to be this far from Kenmare though. Isn't that where you grew up?" She nodded, pausing to take a sip of her tea before she spoke again.

"Yes, my parents house was in Kenmare. Good memory. I've been living in this area for a little while now though, near a town not too far from here." She pulled a small parcel from her pocket, and opened it to reveal two chocolate digestive biscuits, handing him one without another word.

It was such a familiar sight he started. He remembered countless mornings-they had been two of the earlier risers in their little group-sitting together in the common room, the courtyard, the house in Godric's Hollow; watching the sun rise, the snow fall, the rain crashing into the earth, steaming mugs of tea in their hands, just like now. James used to accompany them sometimes, he had always been bouncing with energy no matter the hour. Lily would join them eventually, half asleep and drowning in one of James' jumpers. Remus averted his gaze from the empty seats beside him, not wanting to dwell on that thought any further than he had to.

She smiled at him once more as she dipped her biscuit in her tea and began to eat it. They watched the waves for a while, a silence that wasn't uncomfortable, but not as familiar as it had once been. He couldn't tell if she was being quiet on purpose, or if perhaps this is just what she was like but after a while he broke the silence.

"Mary, it is lovely to see you." he began awkwardly.

"But you're wondering why I've summoned you here, out of the blue, after almost four years?" she continued with a wry smile.

"You could say that." he shrugged sheepishly. He watched as she fiddled with the thin silver bracelets on her wrist, seeming a little more nervous than she had before. He stayed quiet for a few minutes, hoping she would begin to open up by herself. He had never been one to prod and poke at people when they clearly have something to say that is important to them. Mary was quite articulate, and he trusted that the words would come to her when she was ready.

"I know we've both… kept our distance from one another. And while it's been horrible to feel like.."

"Like the only one left?"

She nodded with a grimace. Just like old times, Mary seemed to get exactly what he was feeling without the need for too many words. Although she was also the only other one who could relate he hadn't forgotten that this was different for her of course. After everything she and Sirius had been through; everything they were to each other. How does one deal with that kind of betrayal?

"It was just too painful.. Too raw. I'm guessing you may have felt similar?" she didn't wait for his confirmation before continuing. "I think Lily and James would be angry at us for not keeping in touch though, let alone not even being friends really."

Hearing their names didn't sting quite as much as it would have the last time they'd met, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. He couldn't, and wouldn't argue with her though. He knew James, their mother hen, would be devastated that the two of them didn't have any kind of relationship anymore. Knowing him, he would've just blamed himself. He didn't know if Mary's existence over the past few years had been quite as lonely as his own, but he doubted they were smooth sailing either. Almost everyone knew of her connection to the Potter's, as well as to Sirius.

"So you propose we rectify that?" he tucked his hands into the sleeves of his thin coat.

"I do, and-" she stopped when she noticed him shivering. She waved her wand discreetly under the table, and he felt a warmth spreading through his bones that made him feel like he was standing in front of a lit fireplace. He could've cast that charm himself. He should've. But there was something about the innate kindness of someone else doing it for you that it made him smile. "Sorry, it was much warmer earlier in the week. I just figured the beach was easiest to meet at. I live about twenty minutes away from here."

"Don't worry, it's nice here." he did like this beach, it felt very wild and free. There was something calming about the wide, open spaces that made him feel safer, more content. "Twenty minutes, walking?"

"Oh, no." she smiled to herself, as though there was some sort of inside joke. "By car." she turned to point at a bulky turquoise car nestled in between two slightly smaller dark cars in the nearby parking lot. Her mother had been a Muggle Born witch, he knew that. But last he remembered it had been Sirius who had been more interested in driving, motorcycles that is. He was fairly certain Mary had never learned, but perhaps he was wrong.

"Nice car." he commented. It looked like something he had seen in magazines years ago, back when they were teenagers. He hadn't been in a car since before his mother died. His father hadn't needed to use their one after she passed, and he had never learned himself.

"1970 Morris Minor," she supplied, although the name meant nothing to him.

"When did you learn to drive?"

"About four years ago." Once again, she smiled as though she was holding onto a secret. "I'll explain later. But first, how are you Remus? Where are you living now?"

"Back in Wales. It's not ideal, but it's my mother's old cottage, and even though it's falling apart. It is free, so…" She was looking at him knowingly, but didn't pass any further comment.

They talked aimlessly for a while, and the sun even peeked out from behind the clouds for a while as the beach got slightly busier. It felt wonderful to talk to someone he knew again. Someone who knew him, really knew him, someone who-at one point at least-cared about him. Despite that, Mary seemed more reserved than before; she was quieter, her humour drier and her words succinct where before they had been blunt or cavalier. Or perhaps that was just had scarcely been adults when everything had changed so horribly.

"So." she looked at the ocean as she spoke, the change in her tone as sudden as the straightening of her posture. "I need to talk to you about something.. rather, er, important."

He almost felt as though she was about to say serious, and the purposeful avoidance of it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. They had carefully skirted around the subject so far over the last hour, but now it seemed she was suddenly taking the plunge.

"I don't know if we should-" He began, unsure of how he was even going to finish that sentence.

She held a hand up, her eyes sharper than they had been a moment ago. "Please Remus, this will be hard enough to get out."

"Alright.. I do get the feeling that I'm not going to like this."

"Perhaps." She stared out at the ocean, taking a deep breath as though she was about to take a plunge underwater before continuing in one fell swoop. "They're reopening Sirius' case, they're giving him a trial."

What?

He stared at her, his whole body trembling. She seems eerily calm about this news, this horrible, earth-shattering news. Why, why, why? Why would they bring all this up again?

"What do you mean, giving him a trial?" he snarled. "Surely you mean a retrial?"

"No,"she spoke in a calm, even tone that he knew meant she was trying very hard to keep her cool. "As you might recall, he never got one."

"That's.. That's…what?" he stares at her, thrown for a moment. "He didn't? Well, I thought-look.. he admitted to it. He did it. He was the secret-keeper! Why would we need to hear why he did it? Why would we want the whole world to know why Sirius did something so..so..cruel? That won't help anything. That won't bring them back Mary!" He stands up so abruptly he knocks what's left of his tea to the ground, and it catches in the wind, spattering tea across the sand, evaporating into the air.

She looks at him for a long moment, her eyes hard, her expression unfathomable. He can feel people staring at them, but he's too agitated to be embarrassed. She discreetly and wordlessly casts a privacy charm with her wand, and gestures for him to sit down. He's impressed by her command of her magic, but is too agitated to comment. He shakes his head silently, waiting for something she could say to rationalise this.

"Are you completely certain about that?" her voice is eerily calm. "Can you swear, with every fibre of your being, that you are 100% positive he is guilty? That Sirius, the crazy, loving, loyal boy you grew up with-that he really was capable of this?"

"Mary, I think you may be biased-" he protests, but she cuts him off.

"Of course I am. But swear it to me, Remus. Swear it, and I'll believe you."

He looks into her eyes and knows she means that. Despite their distance, despite all this time, he knows her. He knows she would do anything for her friends. She would follow them to the ends of the earth. She was there for him throughout all his years at Hogwarts, just like the Marauders were. Through thick and thin. It is the memory of this unwavering support that compels to stammer out, surprising himself:

"I-I can't."

Shakily, he sits down. She regards him for a moment, her small, pale hand reaching out to clasp with his. Memories of Sirius, the ones he tries to repress-come rushing back with full force. This bounding force of energy. The unwavering friend. The resilient Animagus he suggested they become. For him. The love in his eyes as he looked at James, at Lily, at Harry. Those he would eventually, somehow betray most horribly. He feels the tears prick his eyes, the confusion churning in his gut. He meets her gaze, and he recognises her strength that's just barely masking the fear underneath.

"But, Dumbledore said-"

"Dumbledore can be full of shit."

He's flabbergasted. Mary? Disavowing their Headmaster? The leader of the Order? She was a Gryffindor through and through. He'd never met a Gryffindor that didn't think Dumbledore was as brilliant as they came. He himself was forever indebted to Albus Dumbledore. He raises an eyebrow in response.

"Let's just say… it wouldn't be the first time he completely fucked up. But that's a story for later." she dismissed, but the purse of her lips tells him it's not something he is going to like.

He runs his hands over his face and through his hair, trying to comprehend what she is telling him. She seems to believe that Sirius is... innocent ? He can't deny that deep, deep down, he had longed for that to be the case. But based on what? The facts go against him. He can't even say he knew Sirius all that well towards the end of the war, after their massive falling out. He can't speak for certain. All he knows is that Sirius was the secret keeper, and a few weeks later, three of his friends were dead, a child orphaned. A war suddenly over. All of them more alone than ever.

"Tell me," he requests. She straightens up as though she's answering a question in school-or more accurately, arguing her point with a teacher.

"One, he never got a trial," she holds out a finger and taps it. "Even if I was completely convinced of his guilt, the rest of them did receive a trial. Two, this is Sirius. Barely anyone who actually knew him has had an easy time believing this. Those that have, based that solely on his last name; the same one he rejected the entire time I knew him. Three, even if he had sold them out to Voldemort, wouldn't you want to know why? Does it not drive you mad not knowing?"

"Well, yes, all good points, certainly." she looks satisfied for a moment before he adds. "But, what about the spy in the order?"

"Tell me Remus, did Peter ever come to you, whispering in your ear about a spy in the order? Did he ever point a finger at Sirius? Saying he was the only one he had told certain things?" her arms crossed, her jaw set, he's certain she already knows the answer. But how?

He falters. "I-How do you know that?" Peter had done just what she suggested. He had been nervous, anxious, seeking guidance. He had come to Remus, saying he knew James' would never doubt Sirius.

It was ultimately part of what had convinced him of Sirius' guilt; why would Peter, arguably the weakest of their group, come to him about this and lie? Poor Peter, who had lost his life. What would Peter have to gain by- "No. You can't mean…"

"I don't know what to think," she shrugs, her eyes sad. She looks at her hands, clasped in her lap. "I just know that he did the exact same to Sirius. Why do you think he was so quick, so rash to turn on you the way he did? The rest of us just thought the stress of the war, of everything was getting to him before I overheard Pete talking with him one day."

He studies her for a moment, trying to figure out how genuine she is being. His falling out with Sirius had been deeply upsetting. One moment things were fine, but in between his undercover operations with the packs, on a long overdue trip home-Sirius suddenly turned on him, in a way he had never expected. Sirius had done what he had always sworn he never would do, and made Remus feel like nothing more than the monster that he hated, so deep down inside. The one that paced beneath the surface.

Always pacing. Always waiting. Always there.

Inescapable.

James, Lily and Peter hadn't changed the way they treated him at all. But the rare times he was back in the Wizarding World, Sirius had stayed away from Godric's Hollow. Mary had been as kind as ever; and they rarely mentioned Sirius, let alone discussed him, but he had always wondered if they had all secretly believed Sirius.

If they had all seen him as a monster.

"Why now? What's changed? Why haven't you said any of this before?"

"Well," she sighs, adjusting the wand holster hidden beneath her sleeve. "I met with Minnie last week."

"Minnie? McGonagall? You can't mean to tell me you've talked her into this as well?"

"The very one and same. She spoke to Dumbledore-more like chewed him out I'd say-and then spoke with Kingsley and submitted an official petition for a trial. Its a wonder she got it all through really, and with such speed."

"So she really believes it then?"

"I can't say for certain. But she's doubtful enough to want to hear what he has to say. To give him a chance. Plus, she's fuming that he never got a trial."

He turns away from Mary for a moment to examine his shaking hands. He can see the grains of sand blowing away beneath his feet. He watches them for a moment, everchanging, ever constant.

He doesn't know if he doesn't believe Mary, or if he just doesn't want to. Everything had slotted very neatly inside his mind. The mistakes and missteps and betrayals all accounted for. Everything made sense. Everything added up. But did it?

"And you?" he challenges, looking up at her again. Her resolve flickers for the first time, fading away and leaving behind something much more primal, much more raw.

"I have to-" she stops, clears her throat and then ploughs ahead. "I have to believe theres.. A chance. This is Sirius . My Sirius. Our Sirius. I've spent so long feeling… angry , and abandoned, and lost and yet.. Somehow, there's still hope." she pushes a lock of hair behind her left ear. "I've never been able to shake the thought that there's something I missed. Something unaccounted for."

Remus doesn't speak for a moment, the emotion coursing through his old friends words strong enough to make him wonder. He'd never expected this narrative to come to fruition, despite the relationship Mary and Sirius had-or was it have? He doubted she had been able to see him while he had been in Azkaban.

While she certainly made it sound like Sirius still mattered to her, it had been over four years, had she moved on? She would be well within her right to. It wasn't quite his place to ask. Not after all this time.

"Mary-"

"We owe him that. The chance to tell his side of the story. The chance to be certain." she interrupts, a determined glint in her eye. "I'm not sure if I can live with myself otherwise."

"You're right." he agrees, although his heart thundering away in his chest begs to differ. The last thing on earth he wants is to dredge all of this up again, to relive some of the worst days of his life. To actually see Sirius again. But Mary is right. They owe him, and themselves that.

And James and Lily.

"Have you seen Harry, you know, since?" she asks abruptly. He looked up, bewildered, wondering how she had quickly changed tack from trials and Death Eaters and Azkaban to Harry. He felt a pang in his heart when she mentioned his name, outweighed only by the guilt he was trying his darndest to ignore.

"No, no, I haven't," he shook his head, staring at the sand and grass beneath his feet. "Dumbledore would only tell me that he was safe, and with someone in Lily's family. Everytime I request access, he's told me it's better if he grows up away from the Wizarding world. I mean, he's Dumbledore, so he probably has a point, even if I don't see it now, I trust that he will be right in the end, so I-What?" he paused when he noticed her hands had clenched into fists.

"Guessing you don't think he's been left with Petunia and her husband, right?" her tone was bitter, but he didn't get the feeling that it was aimed at him.

"I, no-of course not. Petunia and Lily hadn't spoken in so long, her husband despised all things Magic as much as she did-if not more. And as far as I knew, she'd never even met Harry. Why would anyone consider placing Harry with them?"

"That's a question best left for Dumbledore."

"You can't really mean that he left Harry with the Dursleys? For all this time?" he felt furious. He knew he wasn't the most suitable choice of guardian, what with his own affliction and inability to hold down a steady job. But surely he'd be better than a pair of Wizarding hating Muggles who despised the boys parents? Probably despised him for that matter.

Anyone would be a better choice, Mary would have been a great choice, even with her young age at the time. She and Sirius had been- he stopped that train of thought immediately. Thinking of Sirius was still far too painful, and thinking of him in relation to Harry still made him furious.

"Unfortunately, I do. He was with them until just before last Christmas."

"What? You mean-where is he now? What happened?"

"They weren't very good to him." her voice is eerily flat, she toys with the frayed ends of her scarf anxiously, glancing up to see him looking furious.

"Elaborate." he demands, not even caring how rude he's being.

"They practically treated him like a house-elf. Worse than I could have imagined. I doubt he'd ever known any love, or care in the entire time he had been there."

"Oh." his voice is as small and as useless as he has apparently been all these years.

Mary wasn't one to exaggerate, but neither did she beat around the bush. If this was how she described it, he was very confident in her impression of the situation. He feels too sick to ask for any more information, and wonders if that makes him cowardly. Not even wanting to hear about what can only be described as abuse is pathetic in comparison to Harry, sweet, little adorable Harry, having to live through that.

"And now?" he manages through his fury, watching her carefully.

"He's safe." she assures him, relief breaking out over her own features. She meets his gaze, her own resolute. "I swear it to you, he's safe now. They won't ever fucking touch a hair on his head again."

"Where is he?"

"He's with a family. He's safe." she promises, and she sounds so certain he can't help but trust her.

"Okay.. Okay. I guess I can live with that."

The silence courses through them like the wind that is currently running wild through his hair. Both lost to their own thoughts, and Remus presumes that Marys, like his own, are with Harry. He'd been the sweetest little thing he'd ever encountered. James' cheekiness combined with Lily's charm. He'd always figured that he'd be unstoppable once he got older. He wonders if he's managed to retain any of that. Or if Harry would even recognise him now.

Mary unexpectedly breaks into his thoughts, her voice thinner than before.

"I must confess, I have further reasons for this distance. I've been keeping something hidden from well… everyone. Or rather, two things."

"Okay, you don't… owe me anything. I mean, don't feel you-"

"Remus, you'll want to hear this. You.. you deserve to know." He looked up to see that she had a steely glint in her eye that wasn't dissimilar to a certain Professor of theirs. She took a deep breath. "Although it might.. It might be easier if I just show you?"

"Okay.." he said hesitantly, feeling uncertain. He looked around for a brief moment, wondering if perhaps what she had to show him was here, at this beach in the remoteness of Ireland.

"Trust me enough to get in my car?" she asks with a grin.

"I've taken worse risks." he shrugs, getting up and stretching slowly, his limbs still achy from last week's transformation.

"It's not far anyways."

He follows her to the car, getting into the right side. It looks perfectly clean, but smells faintly of soil and dog hair. A smell which makes his stomach clench once more. The upholstery is a creamy beige, but with a shiny turquoise detailing which matches the outside. He is mildly impressed as Mary reverses and swings out of the car park with ease, looking just as confident as she did on a broomstick. She turns left and heads towards the road that goes along the cliff, and he cranks down his window to enjoy some more of the fresh sea air.

It really is beautiful here. The sea is a deep and rich navy, the weak rays of the summer sunlight glint off it's deep, tumultuous surface. He can taste the salt in the air, and as they round a corner the sea stretches out before them, seemingly endless.

Neither of them speak for a while, Remus can't look away from the beauty that is the Atlantic ocean and it is only when they leave the ocean behind and slip in between the rocky mountain face and onto a narrow road does Mary say something.

"I lied."

"Oh?" he turns to look at her. Her gaze is fixed on the road, but with no other cars in sight, he wonders if it's merely to avoid his gaze.

"Earlier I mean. When I said Harry was safe now."

"But he-"

"He is safe, don't worry," she rolls up her window as she simultaneously turns a sharp corner, and he barely manages to keep from closing his eyes in fear. "But I lied when I said I didn't know where he was."

"To be fair, you never explicitly said that."

"Implying it can be as bad as lying. And I don't like it." She looks at him as she waits to make a right turn onto a busier main road, her eyes sharp. "I'm the one who took him from those rotten muggles."

He bursts into laughter, both in surprise and delight. She smiles at his reaction, the warmth reaching her eyes.

"What's he like?" Remus asks quietly, that being more important than the semantics of her quasi-kidnapping. The smile that blooms on her face is answer enough, but she answers anyways.

"He's wonderful. Truly. He's taken a while to adjust, to feel.. safe. But oh Moony, he's ever so sweet, so kind. You can already tell he's athletic like James, and he's definitely inherited both of his parents' cleverness."

"Really?" his heart is racing slightly. Harry had always felt like a nephew to him, like family. His guilt for not being in his life, his lingering grief over his friends, only compounds the swell of emotions he feels at the mere discussion of this child.

""Yeah, it's so bittersweet." her voice is taut with emotion, and for a moment neither of them speak.

The peace of knowing Harry is ok, that he's alright, that he's living with someone who so clearly loves him, in a similar manner to the way his own badass, wonderful parents would have is wonderful. But still, his mind had always been irritatingly inquisitive. He needs to know more.

"Is he okay?"

"He's getting there." Guilt flickers across her features, and he wonders what she's been through with him to make her have that reaction, even now. "He's come along in leaps and bounds of course, but it hasn't been easy at times."

"I can imagine," Remus agreed softly. "It must have been hard, raising a child out of the blue like that."

"I suppose."

"I presume McGonagall knows Harry lives with you?" he asks wryly.

"She does now." Mary's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's a bit of a long story really."

As they reach the outskirts of a little village, he can't help but ask, doubt creeping into his voice. "Does he know anything about…"

"You? Not to worry, I quickly made up for lost time and made sure he knew all about his parents, and all about the adventures of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. "

"I haven't heard those names all put together in quite a while." The silence between them is comforting. It feels right. Sometimes just being understood is enough.

After fields of wheat and barley, dizzying, endless rows of golden yellow, each stalk nearly as high as himself, they drive past by a few cottages and Mary takes a turn down a bumpy looking boreen, surrounded by hedgerows on either side.

They pulled to a stop in a small clearing between some tall sloping trees and what appeared to be a small cottage, painted in white with a small blue stable door, a cheery orange flower growing in a pot by the door. It's like a miniature of the two storey cottage behind it.

Mary turns the engine off, and lets out a breath.

"Oh, is this where you live?" It's surprisingly sweet, almost as though it was straight from a story-book. How on earth did Mary end up living here? Last they'd spoken she'd been living the fast life in London. A stark contrast from the tranquility of the Irish countryside.

"Yeah, that's my studio and shop." she points at the small building directly in front of them. She didn't make any move to get out of the car, instead watching the building before them with an uncomfortable expression.

"How're you doing?" she asks instead, and despite the warmness in her almond shaped eyes he still feels a sense of trepidation.

"It's a lot to take in," he admitted. "But ultimately, I'm glad."

"Yeah?" She looks doubtful.

"Even if this whole...thing with Sirius wasn't happening, or if Harry wasn't here," he pointed vaguely in the direction of her home. "I'm glad that we're talking. I'm glad I'm here."

"Oh. Well. Remus.. Thanks." an emotion flitted across her face, something too complex and too fleeting for him to identify with any certainty. She reached out a hand to squeeze his shoulder softly, before withdrawing and staring out the window once more.

"Mary, is everything-"

"I need to relive the sitter." she interrupts.

"Oh." somehow that made this all seem more real. A sitter. For Harry. Little Harry, who was living and breathing and okay , and here. A whole little person.

"Can you just…." she bit her lip, her fingers thrumming an irregular beat on her steering wheel. "Could you wait here? Just for a moment. I just need a minute to-"

"Take all the time you need." he assured her. Resolute, she nodded her head, opening the door abruptly and stepping out. She moves towards her studio, before turning around sharply and lowering herself to the car window so they were eye level once more.

"It won't take long, I just need to prepare-" she cast her eyes towards the house again, before finishing awkwardly. "I just need to prepare."

"Of course." he replied softly, although his mind was working furiously to figure out what it was that had her so worked up. She had seemed fine only moments ago, but this unease had seemed to grow the closer they had gotten to her house.

Remus didn't have long to ponder though, as Mary soon reappeared, waving at him. Only her top half was visible from the partially open stable door of her studio. He quickly made his way over, and she opened the rest of the door to let him in.

Remus held back his surprise as he stepped into the surprisingly airy room, light shining down from skylight windows, and a gentle breeze accompanying him through the door. He had a suspicion that it had been enlarged magically, as the portion he was in-which, apart from the half-finished artwork strewn about the place; contained a massive desk, several easels, a kiln, as well as a kitchenette and a comfy looking armchair by the fireplace-looked much larger than it did from the outside. They stepped through a plush turquoise curtain into what closely resembled a gallery, small red stickers adorning the backs of paintings and plates, the handles of mugs and beside vases of finely spun glass. Remus was rather impressed.

"Wow, this is quite a setup."

"I get by." Mary admitted, although he could hear a touch of pride in her voice. Rightfully so. She led him through the gallery, pointing out one or two works with a comment such as 'Thats the beach we were at today,' and 'Recognise that lake?' or 'this is the forest near where I grew up'. He got the feeling she was stalling.

When they got to the door, she turned to look at him, her gaze almost penetrating. He stared back solemnly, almost feeling as though she was testing him.

"Try not to freak out." she said abruptly.

"That's comforting." he says dryly. He arches an eyebrow at her, and she holds his gaze for a moment longer before swinging open the door. Remus feels almost blinded by the sudden burst of sunlight, and he throws up a hand to shield his face.

When everything clears he can see Mary a few feet away, facing him and the small and shy looking child holding her hand is so familiar it makes him start.

It really was James in miniature-except for the eyes of course, those bright and distinct eyes-it was hard to rectify this child with the toddler he had once known. His hair is as unruly as James' ever was and his bright red clothing is eerily reminiscent of James clad in Gryffindor colors. Remus can see a little plaster taped to his knee and his tiny shoes look slightly worn, most likely from running through the abundance of fields and forests around here.

"Hello Harry."

"Hullo," Harry replies, ducking his head shyly. Mary rubs his hand comfortingly. Remus stays a few feet away, Harry looks like he could spook easily and that's not what he wants at all.

"Harry, this is a great friend of mine. Remus Lupin. He's been waiting a very long time to meet you."

"Me?" His surprise is obvious behind his round spectacles.

"Yes." Mary nods patiently. Remus is more than happy to let Mary take the reins on this one, he knows all too well what it's like to be a scared and traumatised child around so many adults, all of whom seemed to know you and know what you might be going through. "He knew you when you were a sweet baby, I have loads of pictures of you two, playing, at the park, eating yummy dinners and even taking naps."

"Really?" Harry darts a glance back at Remus, curiosity seeming to override his caution. "Does that mean he-" Harry cuts off, looking hesitant.

"Yes, he knew your mam and dad too. He knew your dad even better than I did."

"Oh." Harry looks at Remus again from the corner of his eye. Then, up at Mary with such trust that Remus feels a pang of sorrow deep in his heart.

"Love, why don't you go and get your photobook from the living room?" Mary suggests, her voice soft. "Maybe you and Remus can go through pictures together?" Her eyes flit towards Remus, quick enough to catch him nodding his assent. Remus couldn't imagine anything more unexpected. He couldn't imagine anything he'd rather do.

"Really? Okay!" Harry turns and bounds off towards the house, as springy and as quick as James had always been.

"Mary, wow, that was-" Remus takes a step towards her, overcome with gratitude, desperate to express it. "I'm so-"

"I'm glad Remus, really. But there's something else." Mary interrupts, her face tight and drawn. Remus stills, the idea of this secret, this mystery almost as frightening as it was intriguing. He nearly expects someone like Sirius to step out of the shadows next, as though Marys earlier story to have just been a ploy-but that's most likely just his imagination running rampant again.

Mary takes a step to the right, and someone steps out from behind her. In his amazement to see Harry he hadn't quite noticed the small hand, the corner of her shoulder.

It isn't Sirius. But rather someone else even more shocking.

"Remus, this is Violet." There is trepidation in Mary's voice, but Remus can't look away from the small, dark haired girl who leans out from behind where she's clutching at Mary's skirts. The two of them stare at each other for a moment. Remus can't speak. He knows those features too well. The high cheekbones, the dark locks, the way she's biting her lip.

"Violet?" he repeats, dazed. Then he sees her eyes. He's only seen eyes that particular shade of blue once before. He crouches down so he's at eye level with the toddler, those distinct eyes watching him carefully.

"Hello Violet. I guess I'm your Uncle, your Uncle Remus."

"Moony?" she queries, the name spilling from her lips with ease. She's looking between him and her mother, who's stiff with surprise. Her mother . Mary. Mary McDonald was a mother. His friend Mary. His eccentric, joyful, fierce, courageous friend Mary.

How was she able to keep this a secret? These years had certainly been harder on her. She had been raising a child, the child of her imprisoned-yet-potentially-innocent-boyfriend for the last few years.

"Yeah, this is your Uncle Moony." she recovers enough to ruffle the girls hair before winking at him, looking slightly more comfortable now that he hadn't freaked out in some way. He wasn't really sure what she expected of him, a screaming match, an instant disapparation away?

His emotions have rocketed past overwhelmed, and he wouldn't have a hope of naming how he is feeling now, not even for a thousand galleons. Let alone summing up the energy to shout. And whatever would he shout at her for?

While this does explain so much it also leaves him with so many more questions. Ones he isn't sure how to voice quite yet. He watches Mary and her daughter for a moment as Violet starts to babble about her day, her little hands waving excitedly. This was certainly the last thing he expected when he made his journey this morning.

The rest of the day feels surreal. He spends some time sitting in the sunny porch of Mary's house sharing a plate of biscuits, telling Harry stories about his parents, and looking through the collection of photos Mary has bound together for the little boy, her handwriting peppering the pages. Somehow talking about them in this manner, to the living, breathing child that is their legacy feels both easier and more difficult than talking about them with anyone else.

Each giggle and smile he pulls out of Harry seems to dislodge something in his chest, until saying their names feels more like a blessing than a curse.

Mary appears once or twice, a fond smile on her face. Remus can see the relief etched upon her features and wonders what exactly she had been fearing of him. He's only caught a few glimpses of Violet, running through the house full of laughter, a dog hot on her heels, or talking non stop with her mother. He still can't quite fathom the girl's existence.

He finds himself sitting in the garden with Mary by the late afternoon, the sound of little feet and giggles never far away. She's propped up on her elbows, her eyes closed and her face tilted towards the sun.

"You certainly know how to surprise someone." he comments mildly.

"Go big or go home." she shrugs as though nonchalant but he can hear the apprehension still lurking in her voice.

"It's amazing Mary." he says softly. She cracks open an eye, looking at him carefully. "All this." he looks around, from the airy and welcoming house, to the blooming and almost overwhelming garden, it truly is like a whole other world. Like a little bubble, to keep them safe.

"I just hope it's enough."

"They seem wonderful." Remus adds. "Bright and happy. That's what matters, isn't it?"

"I don't know Remus," she leans forward, her expression serious. She pulls up a few shards of grass as she speaks, her body tight with tension. "How well can two children, one of whom is dealing with some serious trauma, turn out with a single mother? It's only going to get harder as they get older."

"You know, I don't think that matters sometimes. One or two parents, even three in some cases, as long as you love them and do your best by them, I think that's all that really matters at the end of the day."

"I just hope you're right."

"Speaking of," he begins tentatively. "Not that I'm a Pureblood expert or anything, but how come you don't have any Blacks popping in here, breaking down your door trying to get their heir? I do recall how possessive they were about Sirius and Regulus."

If she freezes at the mention of Sirius' name they both ignore it.

"Taken care of." When he gives her a questioning look, she tacks on, "Let's just say it's on a need to know basis."

"And I'm not need to know?"

"We'll see." A faux posh tone colouring her voice. When he gives her an exasperated look she makes a silly face in response. He isn't really bothered about not being privy to the innermost workings of her carefully balanced life. It's not like he has any right to know, or that it's really any of his business.

As loathe as he is to bring it up, his own feelings still rather conflicted, he can't help but take this child free moment to ask Mary:

"What will you do if.. You know, Sirius does turn out to be innocent? I mean, I presume… he'll stay here." he can tell by the uncomfortable expression on her face that she's been wondering this herself.

"First things first," she replies, her voice rather business-like. "Finding out if he is innocent-presumably he has some sort of.. Alibi, or I dunno, explanation-then, if that is the case, assisting him with some sort of defence. It's going to take a load of work, Minnie has already been asking me what day I want to go down to the Ministry Archives, and I just don't know how I'm going to manage it all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well thankfully this house is already mine, but keeping two kids-who don't seem to stop growing every other week-fed, clothed and entertained takes a lot of work. It's really just me and them, so I can't really take on any formal employment, so I'm quite reliant on my artwork for us to get by. I have a rake of commissions lined up. But finding the time to get it done just seems.." she trails off, her face scrunched up with anxiety.

"I can help." Remus offers, surprising himself. He doesn't jump in to take it back though, and the thought of it sounds almost equally wonderful and terrifying.

"What?" Mary sits up straight in surprise. She looks at him almost warily, as though doubting his offer. Or perhaps his intentions.

"Yeah, I'm only able to hold down a part time job at the moment due to-" they both know what he is referring to, so he hurriedly continues. "So I'd be free a few days a week. If that helped I mean."

There's a long silence. Broken suddenly by Mary launching herself across the grass to embrace him tightly. He's so stunned by it, the intimacy of human contact that he stills, barely hugging her back before she pulls away.

"I-do you mean that Remus?" she sounds almost too afraid to ask, as though he'll change his mind at the first opportunity. "Please don't feel at all obligated. I wasn't hinting at anything like that, honestly. So I don't want you to think-"

"Mary," he interrupts firmly. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it. I would like to help you. I wish I'd been more help to you before. I can't imagine what its been like doing all of this alone. Besides I would like to get to know them both, Harry and Violet."

"Yeah?" Before now shy wouldn't have been a word he'd ever use to describe Mary MacDonald.

"Yeah, I want to. I want to be a part of their lives, of yours. If you'll have me of course."

He feels like he's abruptly taken a plunge. Getting involved with other people. Involving his emotions, his feelings. It always runs a risk of getting hurt. Look what happened last time.

Look at today, probably the most emotionally wrought and dramatic day he's experienced in a long time. He never would have thought today would turn out like this, its slightly overwhelming.

A small part of him wants to pretend it never happened. To pretend that none of this concerns him. To go back to his humdrum life, getting by and living a lonely-but safe-existence. Surviving. But barely. At least that way he has no chance of getting hurt once more.

This is a whole other world. A whole other messy, complicated world. But looking at the warmth on Mary's face, the joyous wonder of these two miraculous, happy children, and the happy little world they've created sparks something in him he had feared may have been dormant. Hope.

As he looks around the house, its happy residents, he feels a renewed sense of purpose for the first time in almost five years. No matter what happens with Sirius he needs to be here for one of the few people who always treated him with the utmost kindness. He needs to be here for her. For the son of his truest and most beloved friends. He owes them that, at the very least.

He owes it to Harry.